For Better or For Worse
by Trinity Everett
Summary: Sometimes it's easier to give up, and sometimes you have to fight. Can Tony and Michelle work it out? Story 2 in the Fix-it series - Sequel to 'In the Right Direction'. Can Stand-Alone as well.


Title: For Better or For Worse

Fandom: 24

Characters: Michelle Dessler/Tony Almeida

Word Count: 2,021

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Sometimes it's easier to give up, and sometimes you have to fight.

Author's Notes: This is the second story in a three story fix-it series that takes place between Seasons 3 and 4 and delves into AU territory almost immediately. Huge thanks to featherjean and spacefiend for the read-overs and all the support!

* * *

"Michelle? H-Hey." 

Michelle started at the sound of his voice, looking up from her study of her hands. He answered the door much more quickly than she'd been expecting him to, and she hadn't had time to adequately prepare herself to actually see and hear him. Especially not when the edge that had been shaping his voice for the last four months seemed to be gone. Angry, hostile Tony she could have handled – she'd been mentally preparing herself to deal with him since getting in the car – but this more soft-spoken variation of her husband was throwing her off.

"Hi, Tony," she murmured, releasing a breath and making eye contact with him. "I was hoping we could talk."

Without hesitation he nodded, stepping aside so she could enter, but not moving far enough away to keep her from brushing against him and seeing that, although he looked a little worse for the wear, he was fresh from a shower, relatively clean shaven, and ultimately sober. All things he hadn't been in months. She had to stop herself from moving closer, from touching his smooth cheek, from pressing her lips to his and throwing her strictly defined terms for making it work out to the street.

"You uh, you want something to drink?" he asked awkwardly, glancing away from her scrutiny and scratching his cheek.

She couldn't help the dubious look she gave him and he shook his head.

"Water? We might have some soda around here… there's nothing else, though. I uh, threw it out."

Surprised, she looked around, finding the space to indeed be free of alcohol paraphernalia, things that had been a staple at their house for far too long. When she looked back at Tony, his eyes were downcast, and despite everything she itched to go to him.

"Water sounds great."

Tony moved into the kitchen, and she watched him pluck two glasses from the cabinet and fill them up with water from the fridge.

"Have a seat," he called, walking across the room and handing her one of the glasses. "I uh, was going to come see you. Wasn't sure you'd be home from work yet."

"You were?" she asked, glancing over at the TV. Tony followed her gaze and scratched his cheek, smiling sheepishly.

"It's the 7th inning. I wanted to be able to give you good news."

"Ah."

"Listen, I'm glad you came."

"You are?"

Michelle watched him reach out a hand before changing his mind and pulling back.

"Yeah," he set his glass on the coffee table and stood again, going over to the desk in the corner. "This came last week, I assume it's why you're here?"

Her eyes widened when she saw the blue packet. Trust her to have hired the only lawyer in California with initiative; anyone else would still be waiting to file the paperwork, but not Larry. He must have a template for that sort of thing, because there was no way he could have written them up and sent them to Tony so quickly.

"You want it to be over, Michelle? Is that what you came to tell me? Is that what you came here to talk about? You wanted the satisfaction of seeing my heart in pieces?" he shouted angrily, the calm completely gone from his demeanor.

"Of course not, Tony. I wanted to tell you myself – I asked the lawyer to draw up the papers, but I had no idea he'd send –" she stopped stuttering an explanation and stood. He was the one who had pushed her away, not the other way around, and she wasn't going to grovel any more.

"Yes," she walked over to him. "I asked him to draw up the papers because I can't do this anymore. You're living in someone else's house, Tony. We haven't spoken in weeks; we didn't really talk for even longer than that. You didn't even notice when I left. And I'm miserable, Tony. So yes. Something changes and you get the help you need or I'm done."

Her arms crossed over her chest, gaze holding his for longer than it had in a long time.

"Fine, Michelle, if kicking me to the curb is what –"

"It's not! It's not. I don't want that; you know I don't. I didn't know that they'd send them so quickly. I was hoping to talk to you first, to explain. I just want you to get better, and if I can't be the one to help you I want you to find someone who can."

She took his arm, holding it just as firmly as he used to hold hers whenever he wanted to make a point. She expected him to yank his arm away from her, to push her away the same way he'd done every time she'd initiated contact since the day he came home from prison. Instead, he looked passively at her hand.

"I got a job, Michelle. I got a job and I went to tell you and instead I got served."

"Oh, Tony, I'm so sor-"

"I drank almost half of the stuff in the liquor cabinet. I passed out so hard that Jen thought she was going to have to call the paramedics and get my stomach pumped. Poured everything out when I was finally able to leave the bathroom. I didn't even wait for the hangover to go away."

She didn't know what to say.

"So what now, Michelle? I'll sign them right now if that's what you want, and you can file them and be done with it."

Her hand slid down his arm, lacing her fingers through his. The other hand reached for the divorce papers, freeing them from his clench. Silently, she led him back to the couch, sitting down beside him and squeezing his hand.

"Talk to me, Tony. I want nothing more than to kiss and make up, but I need you to talk to me. You gave up, Tony, and if you can't admit that, if you can't tell me that you want it to be different, I can't do this anymore."

"What do you want me to say, Michelle? I'm pushing 40 and I had to beg and plead to get a job that an average high schooler can do. I've got a record for treason for saving the wife I can't even take care of anymore, and the day I finally get something going, I get divorce papers in the mail. How do you want me to react?"

She squeezed his hand silently, nodding for him to continue.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Michelle, but you don't understand at all. You weren't there when they did daily strip and cavity searches, or when the big guy two cells over beat the crap out of me because his _sister _died from the Cordilla virus. You weren't there the first time I was escorted out of an interview by security because they got a look at my record and thought I was a threat to their company."

He stopped, nodding at her incredulous look. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to upset you. Do you see now? Do you see why it's sometimes easier to just give up when you keep getting kicked when you're down? I only have so much fight in me, Michelle."

She kissed his cheek gently, leaning forward to press her forehead to his temple. She wanted to say something, anything, but she didn't know what. She'd let him down just as much as he'd disappointed her. Edward was right. She'd pushed without ever knowing what he'd gone through, and he'd responded the only way he could, by pulling away.

"I'm so sorry, Tony. I had no idea-"

"You didn't need to know."

"I did," she insisted. "I did. But I didn't try to find out. I didn't know what you'd gone through at your interviews; I just thought you weren't trying. I just thought you didn't care."

"I did, but then I stopped."

"What about now?" she murmured.

"I miss you."

She felt the sob that had been building catch in her throat and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, turning her face into his neck and letting it out. She felt him take a shallow breath, and realized that he was fighting tears as well.

"I miss you, too."

"I want to come home."

She nodded against his shoulder. "I want that, too."

"I want you to forgive me. I'm a jerk, I know, and I've been awful to you. I'm sorry, Michelle."

Tangling her hand in his hair, she nodded. "I do, Tony. And I'm sorry, too."

"I don't want you to be ashamed of me," he murmured into her neck. "Not because of work or the other stuff. But this job, it's not much."

She shook her head, still massaging his scalp lightly. "I didn't fall for your job, Tony. I fell in love with you. Even if you worked at a fast food place, I couldn't be ashamed of you. You disappointed me because you gave up, not because of what happened."

"I love you," he whispered, making her stomach clench and her pulse speed up. He hadn't said that in months, despite the fact that every night he'd been home for them to spend together, she'd draped her arm across his body, kissed his cheek, and breathed it into his ear. "I'll get help, I'll talk to anyone you think I should. I just love you."

"I love you."

"But?" he asked, sensing her hesitation.

"You've been living here, Tony. With someone else, another woman."

"This is where I sleep," he promised, pointing to the couch beneath them. "That first night after I moved, I had my stuff in my car and Jen felt sorry for me and brought me home with her. She let me sleep it off in her bed, and after that told me that if I was gonna stay, I'd be sleeping out here because she wasn't going to put up with me calling her by your name and trying to snuggle all night long."

It hardly made her feel good, but at least it made her feel better.

"So you're-"

"Still wearing the wedding ring you gave me, and I mean it. Even from across town, even shit-faced drunk," he promised, pressing his hand to the small of her back and pulling her against him.

"Me, too," she promised. "Both now and when I was in Seattle."

"While I was in jail?"

She nodded. "I just don't want you thinking-"

He shook his head. "I didn't want to think it. But that helps."

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding again.

Suddenly things felt awkward again, like they had when he first opened the door. Her hands left his hair and returned to his shoulders, pushing lightly to create some space between them. But then she touched his chin gently, pressing her thumb against his bottom lip and smiling.

"We need to keep talking, but what do you say we do it at home?"

"Are you sure?"

Glancing around their surroundings quickly, she nodded. "I'm sure."

"And the divorce papers?"

She studied him silently, taking in the sincere, honest yearning in his eyes, the worn spot on his top lip, where he kept biting in nervousness, and the dark little tuft of hair just underneath his lower lip that looked like their niece had colored on him with a marker. She believed him when he promised to get help, to let her help him. He was on his way there already, and she believed that he'd try to keep it together this time. She didn't want to let go any more than he did.

"Rip them up and forget about them. Then get your stuff and come home."

"You sure?" he asked again.

This time she took his face between her hands and pulled him close, trying to satisfy the craving to devour him with a simple kiss. When they parted, she licked his lips and then her own. She felt him smile at the gesture.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Finis.


End file.
